


Across

by AngelofDarkness1605



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 19:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5978692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofDarkness1605/pseuds/AngelofDarkness1605
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle French decides to give Mr. Gold an anonymous Valentine’s Day gift. Unbeknownst to her, the solitary pawnbroker has exactly the same intention with regards to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Across

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Valentine writing contest for Rumbelle For The Win.

Belle hasn't actually seen the pawnbroker go home, but it's more than an hour after his closing time and the light inside his shop has been off for a similar period of time. No matter how much she'd like to be absolutely certain that he has gone home for the night, it feels silly to wait yet longer to set her carefully crafted plan into action.

Reading the handwritten message on the card one final time and making certain that there's nothing on the paper which might reveal her identity after all, she picks up the red rose to which she already tied the card with an equally red ribbon. Telling herself that she has questioned herself often enough already and that there's no point in further delay, she heads for the back entrance of the library.

She's pleased to note that it's completely dark outside, especially in the narrow alley which connects the library to, among others, the pawnshop where she is going to leave her gift at the doorstep.

It's not that Belle is particularly reluctant to leave a rose and a card expressing her admiration for the enigmatic Mr. Gold the night before Valentine's Day, but she is far from certain either that her intentions will be appreciated by him.

After all, she is quite certain that he has no one in his life who _does_ bother, let alone enjoy, acknowledging him like this. He is an intriguing and handsome man… who however quite often gives her the distinct impression that he purposefully avoids her company.

Reminding herself that it will take less than a minute to leave her gift at the back of his shop for him to find on Valentine's Day, Belle quietly opens the door and sneaks into the dark.

Before she has set five steps towards the pawnbroker's property, she runs into a practically invisible presence in the unilluminated alley, detecting its shape only when she bodily collides with it.

The impact sends her toppling forward, straight against the warm, soft shape that caused her imbalance to begin with and which - or rather, _whom_ \- clings to her with both arms in a doubtlessly instinctive attempt to remain on its feet.

Their uncoordinated attempt is completely in vain however and with a shriek Belle falls forward after all, sending the two of them crashing to the ground. Although she is cushioned by whoever she stumbled into, she gets the wind knocked out of her regardless and she dreads to think of how their fall has impacted the other individual.

Scrambling to her feet and gasping for breath, she reaches for the other person with questioning hands, still unable to see anything in the dark alley. Belle tenses when the person she knocked over lets out a sound of pain… especially when she recognizes the voice as unmistakably belonging to none other than the pawnbroker whose shop she was secretly trying to reach.

"Mr. Gold!" she cries out in horror, all her earlier plans forgotten when she finds out that the man she silently loves is the one who she has accidentally done this to.

He doesn't react, although he - under usual circumstances, at least - must have recognized her voice. It makes her only more concerned about his possible injuries.

"Let's get you inside so I can take a look at you," she says, blindly finding his arm and helping him back on his feet. "I think you're hurt."

Thinking of nothing but his well-being, Belle ushers the man she was afraid to been seen by in the alley mere moments ago into the back of the library. She sits him down on the first seat they encounter, a wooden chair in the small kitchen next to her office. To her shock, there's a wound at the side of his head, blood tickling freely from it.

"I'll get the first aid kit. Stay right where you are, Mr. Gold."

She returns to his side a moment later, practicality taking over yet further when she notices the slightly distant look on his face and the bright red blood dripping onto his black coat. Momentarily forgetting that she couldn't even imagine herself touching him until very recently, she gathers and wets a clean cloth before kneeling down at his side.

"I'm so very sorry for running you," she babbles, barely aware of what she's saying when she carefully dabs at the edges of his wound, getting rid of as much as the blood as she can while limiting his discomfort to the best of her abilities. "At least the cut doesn't look very deep. Maybe you should go see Dr. Whale just in case after I've fixed you up, but I think you're going to be fine."

Pleased that the wound is no longer bleeding once she's done with it, Belle carefully spreads disinfectant over its surface. Still, the pawnbroker hasn't said anything yet and although she doesn't believe him to be nearly as harsh and scary as his reputation might suggest, she would at least expect him to do… something in response to the person who knocked him to the ground, albeit accidentally.

At least his eyes become more focused and he keeps looking at her, almost without blinking, following her every move. It's almost unnerving in its own right.

"Mr. Gold? Do you know where you are? Do you know what happened?"

He doesn't say anything in return, although he blinks a few times and refocuses his dark eyes on her. She shivers when he does so, his gaze so very intent, especially now that they're all alone and they're in such a close proximity to one another.

"Do you know who I am?" she whispers, instinctively reaching out for him to cup the good side of his face in her hand in an attempt to get his full attention.

She never expected to see him from such a close distance, let alone touch him in any capacity, let alone like _this_. Belle is taken aback by how incredibly beautiful he is, from his sharp nose and cheekbones to the gray strands in his soft, shoulder-length hair.

The lines around his eyes and mouth only add to the strikingness of his figure, but the same can't be said for the unusual pale color of his face. It reminds her of why the two of them are here to begin with, that this is a particularly bad moment to loose herself in her love and attraction for him.

"Miss French," he mutters at length, blinking a few more times as if he can't believe that _she_ is the one at his side.

"Yes, it's me. Can you tell me how you are feeling?"

He must be badly hurt after all if he lets her touch him like this. Worry for his well-being taking over once more, she lightly runs her fingers over him to check for possible other injuries.

"My head hurts," he says after another moment. "Other than that, I'm feeling quite well."

"I'm glad to hear that. But what about your head? Where does it hurt exactly? You must have hit your head against the pavement when your skin was cut; you might have a concussion."

"My head only hurts where I'm bleeding. I was slightly dizzy before, but that has passed already. Thank you for your concern, but I think I'm well other than the injury you're currently treating. In fact, I must say that I'm feeling better than usual, all things considered."

Only when he looks meaningfully at her, Belle becomes aware that her hand is twined in his hair, her fingers still tentatively pressing against his scalp in search for any other wounds on his head.

Telling herself that he can't possibly mean what she with all her heart wishes that he does, she quickly removes her hand from his person.

"Let's put some cover on your wound so it won't start bleeding again and won't get infected," she says firmly, reminding both of them why she's touching him in the first place.

Not allowing herself to look at his face again, she finishes her work with a few well-placed band-aids to keep the gauze in place.

"I'm so very sorry for all of this," she says when she's washing her hands with her back towards him, feeling like she can't apologize enough. "I should have paid better attention to where I was going."

"There's no need to apologize, Miss French. You were after all not the only barely visible person walking there. If anything, both of us are to blame for roaming in a dark alley the way we did."

"I suppose you're right," she replies, grateful that he isn't upset with her.

Drying her hands, she turns back towards him, still hardly used to the sight of Mr. Gold sitting in a space which usually only she herself occupies… especially when she sees that he's clutching a red rose with a very familiar card attached to it in his right hand.

Belle freezes, realizing that he must have picked up the rose and card, which she _anonymously_ meant to give to him, in the chaos that followed their collision… only to spot a very similar rose and an identical card lying on the floor next to the door.

For just a moment, she wonders whether _she_ is the one who is seeing things double and needs to have her head examined. But as the pawnbroker follows her gaze and looks at her in a mixture of horror and confusion, it's clear that there are actually two _very_ similar Valentine's Day gifts in the room… and that only one of them is hers.

Then again, there are an awful lot of roses to be seen in town these days. Besides, the number of somewhat tasteful Valentine's Day cards which can be found in their town in general and in Mr. Clarke's store in particular is admittedly limited.

"It seems both of us had similar plans," the landlord says grimly. "I'm very sorry to have ruined your quest, Miss French. You must be yet more displeased that you ran into _me_ of all people when you were delivering your card to someone who hopefully is a lot less prone to cause you harm than I am."

She may have thought it to be awful if Mr. Gold were to find out that _she_ intended to give him a Valentine's Day gift, but it turns out that it's worse yet for him to think that she was going to give the rose and the card to another man.

At the same time, she wonders who the pawnbroker himself might have been heading to with the identical gift. After all, there are only a few other buildings which connect to the alley in which they literally bumped into each other.

"I'm displeased that our meeting resulted in your injury," she says carefully, scrutinizing him. "I'm not displeased that I ran into _you_. In fact, if it weren't for the circumstances I would have only been happy to meet you."

"Miss French, if may I ask…" he inquires, sounding utterly tormented. "Who is the lucky person who is on the receiving end of your Valentine's Day gift?"

"I'll tell you who my gift is for if you tell me who will be the receiver of yours," she says, figuring that she might as well find out who has captured the pawnbroker's heart in exchange for coming clean regarding her unrequited feelings for him.

"We've got a deal, Miss French," he says after a long moment, looking only more pained. "Although I hope that you won't hold my confession against me. You were never meant to know this and I'm only disclosing this information because it seems fair, given my own question."

"Of course, Mr. Gold, of course," she says, picking up her own gift and wondering just how unexpected his revelation is going to be, given the way he introduces it. "As for the identity of the receiver of my Valentine Day's gift… I'll just read the card I wrote for him. It will answer your question."

_Dearest Mr. Gold,_

_Let me start by saying that I barely know you, but that I would very much like that to be otherwise. From what I do know of you, I think I can tell that you are not nearly as intimidating and unpleasant as you might think. If anything, it seems to me that you are intriguing and charming, that you can be kind if only you let yourself… and, without a doubt, you are rather handsome._

_You might be pleasantly surprised by the consequences if you would open yourself up to others. I wish I can witness you like that one day. I'm afraid that you will never like me, let alone in such an intimate way, but I hope regardless that I will get to experience you like that from right by your side._

_Your ardent admirer._

From the moment she started to read, Belle hasn't looked at the pawnbroker. Her nerves will in all likelihood prevent her from continuing if she actually were to see him react to her words, so very carefully chosen but never meant to be directly spoken to him.

Still, when she has finished reading and the silence between them turns longer and heavier, there's nothing for it but to look at him after all. Mentally bracing herself, she lifts her head from the card to take in his reaction.

While she does so, she steps towards him with her gift, figuring that she might as well actually offer him the rose and the card which she just read out loud. It's not as if there's a way back now anyway.

Mr. Gold doesn't take the offered gift, or at least not immediately. It doesn't bother her like she thought it would, for his eyes are unmistakably hopeful.

"You think I don't like you?" he whispers eventually, his hoarse voice making her shiver pleasantly.

"It seems a reasonable conclusion, given the manner you appear to make a point of avoiding me," she says carefully.

"That's the only conclusion you've reached?" he asks, laughing humorlessly.

"It is," she says, not understanding his reaction.

"So you… you _like_ me, Miss French?" he asks, his voice becoming soft and disbelieving.

"Liking is an understatement," she mutters.

Belle can no longer make sense of the conversation and of what is happening between them. She hoped to have her feelings returned whereas she expected rejection, but now that she gets neither for the time being she has no idea what to think - and say, or do - any longer.

"I've been such a fool," he sighs, offering her the rose and card he has been holding all this time.

Simultaneously, he takes the gift which she's still offering him. Their fingers brush during the clumsy exchange, sending heat spreading throughout her. Given the way the pawnbroker's eyes fly back to hers, startled, he has felt it too.

Belle is both eager and apprehensive when she opens the card, at first sight noticing that there isn't nearly as much text crammed on it as there was on hers. She's never seen his handwriting before, but it's as elegant as she expected.

_To the most wonderful woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. R._

Belle stares at the single sentence, reading it over and over again, at the same time wondering about the initial with which he has signed his message.

"It doesn't say who it's for," she says eventually.

"In a way, I just said so myself… by giving it to you. It probably would have been clearer if you would have found this on the doorstep of your library tomorrow morning, like I intended you to receive my gift. The truth is that I couldn't even decide on how to address you."

Mr. Gold sighs, lowering his gaze before he continues talking.

"The message itself is hardly eloquent either, I'm well aware. You don't want to know how many times I've rewritten it. It felt impossible to do you justice without grossly overstepping countless boundaries. I'm afraid this was the best I could do."

"You think I'm _wonderful_?" she asks in a soft voice.

"I think you're extraordinarily wonderful," he says, looking back at her from behind the curtain of his hair. "I think you're very kind and lovely and generous… and, please forgive me for saying this, I think you're very, _very_ beautiful."

"I… I feel the same way about you, Mr. Gold," she breathes, all the things she never imagined herself saying out loud to him, or even writing down on an anonymous card, stumbling from her lips. "To me, you are brilliant and funny… I think you are very loving and loyal, deep inside, and I _know_ that you are so much more than 'rather' handsome."

Although she's standing right at his side, Belle feels that she's awfully far away from him as she is all but bouncing in excitement and giddiness next to him as he continues to look up at her with loving, ever so disbelieving eyes

"Can I sit down with you?" she asks.

Although he hasn't said anything to her yet after her small outburst, she senses that he probably won't be nearly as opposed to her nearness as she has thought all this time.

"By all means," he says, opening his arms in an inviting gesture.

That's how she finds herself carefully sitting down on his upper legs, her thigh brushing his stomach and her arm between their bodies. The movement brings them much closer to one another than she expected, which is thoroughly delightful but rather startling at the same time.

"I never could have thought…" he mutters, looking at her in absolute awe and gratitude.

"Me neither," she whispers, finding that they need no more words at this points in order to establish their feelings for one another, no matter how shocking it is that they apparently have felt the same way about one another all along.

Instead, she reaches for him with tentative fingers, trailing them along his cheek after his approving nod, making certain not to get anywhere near his wound and the bandage which now covers it. Her eyes flutter closed when he touches her in a similar manner and gently wraps his arm around her back, pulling her slightly more tightly against him.

"Are you certain that I'm not lying unconscious in the alley, having the best dream of my life?" he mutters, resting his forehead against hers.

"I'm very certain of that, Mr. Gold. But what about me? Now that you mention it, that might as well be happening to me instead."

"I can assure you, Miss French, that you are very much here, with me."

"I'm very glad," she whispers.

"Me too," he says, tangling one of his hands reverently into her hair.

No matter how much she enjoys being this near to him, there's something she'd yet rather do… something which requires even more closeness between the two of them. Still, with their foreheads resting against one another and their noses touching, they're almost there already.

"Mr. Gold?"

"Yes?"

"Kiss me?"

He makes a sound which she can't quite identify and it takes him several long moments to make any movements at all. But right before she must conclude that she has gone too quickly by asking for the very thing she has dreamed of for so long, the pawnbroker closes the distance between them after all.

Belle gasps against his lips when the man she has longed for all this time finally kisses her, particularly savoring the way he quivers in her arms and whispers her name - her _first_ name when their lips brush lightly.

Mr. Gold ends the kiss after what feels like only a few seconds, but the love written all over his face when he looks at her afterwards is more than enough to ensure her that everything is still very good between them.

"Miss French, _Belle_ … only in my wildest dreams I dared to imagine that you'd have dinner with me one any day, let alone on Valentine's Day. But perhaps, if you don't object to…"

"I'd _love_ to have dinner with you on Valentine's Day," she beams, smiling broadly in excitement and happiness. "And I'd like to have more than dinner, just so you know."

She gives in to the urge to wink at him, feeling better yet because of the way he blushes and almost shyly smiles back at her in response.

"It's a date," he murmurs, clearly still barely able to believe that any of this is happening.

"Why wait for tomorrow, though?" she asks. No matter how delighted she is that she is going to have dinner - a date at Valentine's Day, no less - it suddenly seems an awfully long time to wait a day for that event. "I know it's quite late already, but…"

"I can make you dinner tonight regardless? If you don't mind to visit my home, that is. We can of course also eat in a more public environment. It's perfectly understandable if you prefer to…"

"I'd really, _really_ like to visit your home and have dinner there," she says, sensing that he has looked forward to something along those lines yet more than she has herself.

"Wonderful," he sighs, resting his forehead against hers once more.

She hums in agreement. Still, the prospect of going to his home reminds her how very comfortably and pleasantly they are currently sitting together - and that it would be relatively easy from here to aim for a next, possibly deeper and longer kiss.

"Let's stay here like this for just a little while longer," she says, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"That's a wholly agreeable suggestion, sweetheart."

The affectionate way he addresses her making her happier yet, she eagerly snuggles against him. Doing so, she spots their Valentine's Day's gifts lying on the floor, momentarily forgotten since they dropped them when their hands found each other to hold on to instead.

Smiling against the pawnbroker's neck as he cradles her lovingly against his chest, Belle is already quite certain that next year's holiday won't involve nearly as much secrecy and misunderstanding as this one.


End file.
